Couple Hand Holding Quotes

He pauses his analysis of my chest and looks up into my eyes. His stare holds me there for a long moment and I realise I am succumbing to his will whether I like it or not. He is the predator - he has been all along - and I am his prey. Aurelie of Donrose, it seems, was no match for this invader from the northlands.
"Unexpected?" he repeats.
He rises with care to a standing position, grasping the post to his left for support. His tall frame is now right next to me, his head skimming the silken canopy over us. He leans toward me and presses himself against my nakedness. I gasp, closing my eyes at the contact and yet relishing the physical closeness.
"Does that mean my captive is warming to her new master?"
I open my eyes to find his face right there, above me, that large mouth ready to devour its prey. "I… I don't know," I whisper, looking into his eyes. There's an honesty about my answer that disconcerts me.
Anders shifts his weight slightly, snaking his right hand around my body and skimming my behind. Once there he grabs my left cheek and holds me, using my own body to pull me closer to him. My throbbing wet centre, already pushed forward by the bondage holding my ankles in place, nestles against his clothed right thigh.
"You are not sure, Aurelie, or you are just too afraid to say?"
I blush at his accurate analysis of the situation, dropping my eyes from his gaze. His hand rises north, leaving my ass and taking me by surprise. Anders uses ~ Felicity Brandon

She sighed deeply. "I really thought about trying to explain them," she said. "And why I really didn't want to - " He reached across the console and picked up her hand, holding it, giving it a squeeze. He smiled and shook his head at her. It's okay, he mouthed silently. He didn't let go of her hand. ~ Robyn Carr

I make grilled cheeses for lunch, one for me, two for Will. We don't have any chips, but I find a far of pickles in the pantry.
"This is the best thing I've ever eaten." He pauses for a drink, staring at me over the rim of his glass of juice.
"It's the provolone," I say, swallowing my last bite.
"It's the chef."
I smile and look away.
We listen to music. Talk. Kiss until my flesh glimmers gold-red. Warms to the touch from the deep scald at my core. He stops to watch. Leans his face close to my neck and smells my skin. Like I'm something he might taste. He sweeps his hands along my arms ... making me burn hotter.
"Is this what it's like for other fire-breathers?" he asks, winks, holding my hand up in his broad palm. "Or is it just me and my magic hands? ~ Sophie Jordan

He took her near hand in his and raised it to his lips as he had once before. This time, he kissed it lightly, looking at her as he did, his expression unusually solemn. "Aye, sure, we'll go in," he said. "Just as soon as you look me in the eyes and tell me you're doing this willingly and not just because you said you would."
She looked him right in the eye then and said, "You first."

Ian laughed as much at the look of determination on Lina's face as at the challenge she had flung at him.
When she continued to watch him, he sobered. He was still holding her hand, so he gave it a warm squeeze and said, "I'm more willing with every minute that passes, lass. I believe that we will suit each other well."
"This may be the most reckless thing you have done, sir."
"It may be, aye. But you are doing it with me, so I'll wager that you won't carp and correct me at every turn as some wives try to do."
"I would not do that in any event," she said, peering into his face in that way she had that made him feel as if she would see right through him to his core. "I wonder if my opinions matter to you, though. I'm unlikely to change my feelings about many things that you do. Nor will I agree with you in all that you say."
"Then, likely we'll fratch from time to time," he said. "Would it help if I were to promise that I'll always listen?"
"It might," she said doubtfully. "It would help more if you did always listen."
He choked on another bubble ~ Amanda Scott

The corner of his mouth lifts, and then I kiss him. Not so gently this time. His hand drops from my face and grab at my waist and pull me to him. A small soft groan escapes him, and that noise makes me absolutely crazy. I lose it. I wind my hands around his neck and kiss him without holding anything back. I can feel his heart thundering like mine, his breath coming faster, his arms tightening around me. ~ Cynthia Hand

And just holding her hand would be good. Can you understand that? Do you know that holding someone's hand can be `the' thing? Such a thing that your hands move while not moving. You can remember a thing like that, rather than any other thing about a night, all your life. Just holding hands can mean more, I believe it. When everything is repeated, and over, and familiar, it's the first things rather than the last that count. ~ Ray Bradbury

Taylor worked a hand between them and stroked his thumb over the erect little nub of her clit. Lifting his head, he stared at her, watched as a harsh, broken sob fell from her lips.
Her nails bit into his skin as she started to come and he gritted his teeth, holding back until he saw her going over. Then, and only then, did he bury his face in her neck and start to move again, hard, fast.
He muttered her name, blind to everything but her…completely and utterly lost in her. ~ Shiloh Walker

Then she did see it there - just a face, peering through the curtains, hanging in midair like a mask. A head-scarf concealed the hair and the glassy eyes stared inhumanly, but it wasn't a mask, it couldn't be. The skin had been powdered dead-white and two hectic spots of rouge centered on the cheekbones. It wasn't a mask. It was the face of a crazy old woman. Mary started to scream, and then the curtains parted further and a hand appeared, holding a butcher's knife. It was the knife that, a moment later, cut off her scream.
And her head. ~ Robert Bloch

It's the forties look," she says to George, hand on her hip, doing a pirouette. "Rosie the Riveter. From the war. Remember her?"
George, whose name is not really George, does not remember. He spent the forties rooting through garbage bag heaps and begging, and doing other things unsuitable for a child. He has a dim memory of some film star posed on a calendar tattering on a latrine wall. Maybe this is the one Prue means. He remembers for an instant his intense resentment of the bright, ignorant smile, the well-fed body. A couple of buddies had helped him take her apart with the rusty blade from a kitchen knife they'd found somewhere in the rubble. He does not consider telling any of this to Prue. ~ Margaret Atwood

And how did you know about that?" Seven looked at his watch. Chase held up a hand. "Let me guess, in two minutes and thirty seconds, I was going to tell you Martin called."
"No."
"No?"
"Six minutes and fifteen seconds. You had a couple of false starts. Then you were going to apologize because he wouldn't help you by putting you in touch with his contacts in Washington."
"Something tells me you're going to be no fun come Christmas. ~ Adrienne Wilder

KEEP YOUR EYES ON ME ! Waves of adversity are washing over you, and you feel tempted to give up. As your circumstances consume more and more of your attention, you are losing sight of Me. Yet I am with you always, holding you by your right hand. I am fully aware of your situation, and I will not allow you to be tempted beyond what you are able to bear. Your gravest danger is worrying about tomorrow. If you try to carry tomorrow's burdens today, you will stagger under the load and eventually fall flat. You must discipline yourself to live within the boundaries of today. It is in the present moment that I walk close to you, helping you carry your burdens. Keep your focus on My Presence in the present. ~ Sarah Young

Here we are, condemned to death, and still the certainty of dying cannot compare with the pleasure I am feeling. The joy I take from this half an orange which I am holding in my hand is one of the greatest joys I have ever known. ~ Antoine De Saint Exupery

His hands cupped her cheeks, holding her steady so that he might drink in the sight of her. It was too dark to see the exact colors that made her unforgettable face, but Simon knew that her lips were soft and pink, with just a tinge of peach at the corners. He knew that her eyes were made up of dozens of shades of brown, with that one enchanting circle of green constantly daring him to take a closer look, to see if it was really there or just a figment of his imagination.
But the rest - how she would feel, how she would taste - he could only imagine.
And Lord, how he'd been imagining it. Despite his composed demeanor, despite all of his promises to Anthony, he burned for her. When he saw her across a crowded room, his skin grew hot, and when he saw her in his dreams, he went up in flames.
Now - now that he had her in his arms, her breath fast and uneven with desire, her eyes glazed with need she couldn't possibly comprehend - now he thought he might explode.
And so kissing her became a matter of self-preservation. It was simple. If he did not kiss her now, if he did not consume her, he would die. It sounded melodramatic, but at the moment he would have sworn it to be true. The hand of desire twisting around his gut would burst into flame and take him along with it.
He needed her that much. ~ Julia Quinn

she realized that wanting him
meant losing herself
she realized that she couldn't
save her own soul
because her hands were too busy
holding the hand of someone
who no longer deserved her energy ~ R.H. Sin

I walked home holding Tom's hand, not letting it go even as he tottered across a soccer field where there was nothing that could hurt him. ~ Aspen Matis

He slept under the sky, holding her hand, filling the gaps between her fingers and losing himself inside the soul in the course of counting the stars, she was hiding inside her eyes. ~ Akshay Vasu

When he was present she had no eyes for any one else. Every thing he did, was right. Every thing he said, was clever. If their evenings at the park were concluded with cards, he cheated himself and all the rest of the party to get her a good hand. If dancing formed the amusement of the night, they were partners for half the time; and when obliged to separate for a couple of dances, were careful to stand together and scarcely spoke a word to any body else. Such conduct made them of course most exceedingly laughed at; but ridicule could not shame, and seemed hardly to provoke them. ~ Jane Austen

A bow has no conscience: it is a prolongation of the hand and desire of the archer. It can serve to kill or to meditate. Therefore, always be clear about your intentions. A bow is flexible, but it has its limits. Stretching it beyond its capacity will break it or exhaust the hand holding it. Therefore, try to be in harmony with your instrument and never ask more than it can give. ~ Paulo Coelho

Some people expect things to fall into their lap. Oh, they might work a bit for it. I'll just shake this tree, and if I shake it long enough that pretty red apple will plop right into my hand. Never occurs to them that they might have to climb the damn tree, fall out a couple times, get some scrapes and bruises before they get to that apple. Because if the apple's worth wanting, it's worth risking a broken neck. ~ Nora Roberts

I do a little bit of hand-holding on the big cases. You know, like health care, I'll call over and say, "Don't worry. We've got it under control. We have the best people working on it. We're on schedule. Stay calm." So, those kinds of things. ~ Donald Verrilli Jr.

Derek and I went out for our walk after dinner. Alone.
There was an open field behind the motel and we headed there. Finally, when we were far enough from the motel, Derek led me into a little patch of woods. He hesitated then, unsure, still just holding my hand. When I stepped in front of him, though, his free hand went around my waist.
"So," I said. "Seems you're going to be stuck with me for a while."
He smiled. A real smile that lit up his whole face.
"Good," he said.
He pulled me against him. Then he bent down, breath warming my lips. My pulse was racing so fast I could barely breathe. I was sure he'd stop again and I tensed, waiting for that hesitation, stomach twisting. His lips touched mine, and still I kept waiting for him to pull back.
His lips pressed against mine, then parted. And he kissed me. Really kissed me- arms tightening around me, mouth moving against mine, firm, like he'd made up his mind that this was what he wanted and he wasn't backing down again.
I slid my arms around his neck. His tightened around me and he scooped me up, lifting me off his feet, kissing me like he was never going to stop, and I kissed him back the same way, like I didn't want him to ever stop.
It was a perfect moment, one where nothing else mattered. All I could feel was him. All I could taste was his kiss. All I could hear was the pounding of his heart. All I could think about was him, and how much I wanted this, and how incredibly lucky I ~ Kelley Armstrong

I've got some good physical therapy for you. Any good at fencing?"
Joss almost choked on her mouthful of coffee. She sat up straight in her chair and shook her head. "No, Gus."
Troy ignored her. "I can fence in my sleep."
"Gus." She narrowed her eyes at her father-in-law who could be stubborn as a mule. "He dislocated his elbow. He shouldn't be doing any heavy lifting with his arm. Not to mention it's going to be in a splint for a couple of weeks."
"He's still got his right arm, don't he?"
"Yeah," Troy drawled, amusement flattening his vowels even more than usual. "I've still got my right arm."
She glared at Gus. "You want to take on a one-armed fencer?"
"Damien's got his summer job starting today so I'm losing my sidekick and Cody's out with his broken leg for another couple of weeks. It'd be handy to have even one extra hand on."
"I bet I can fence better one-armed than most men can with two."
There was no bravado to the claim. His expression was sincere and Joss believed him. She didn't doubt this man could do a crap ton of things better than most men. ~ Amy Andrews

It's like I'm trying to keep the bad away with one hand while holding on to the good with the other, and it just doesn't work. It's stupid. I need both hands. So I guess I just have to spread out my arms and accept the bad with the good. ~ Andrea Lochen

Holding someone's hand was always my idea of joy. ~ Clarice Lispector

The game of life is not so much in holding a good hand as playing a poor hand well. ~ H.T. Leslie

Well," he said, trying to sound as though he found the whole thing a joke, "if you want to
er
what is it?" (He checked Percy's letter.) "Oh yeah
'sever ties' with me, I swear I won't get violent."
"Give it back," said Ron, holding out his hand. He is
" Ron said jerkily, tearing Percy's letter in half, "the world's"
he tore it into quarters
"biggest"
he tore it into eighths
"git." He threw the pieces into the fire. ~ J.K. Rowling

When we pulled up to Marlboro Man's house, I saw my Camry sitting in his driveway. I didn't expect it to be there; I figured it was still on Marlboro Man's parents' road, sitting all crooked in the ditch where I'd left it the night before. Marlboro Man had already fixed it, fishing it out of the ditch and repairing the mangled tires and probably, knowing him, filling the tank with gas.
"Oh, thank you so much," I said as we walked toward the front door. "I thought maybe I'd killed it."
"Aw, it's fine," he replied. "But you might want to learn to drive before you get in it again." He flashed his mischievous grin.
I slugged him in the arm as he laughed. Then he lunged at me, grabbing my arms and using his leg to sweep my supporting leg right out from under me. Within an instant, he had me on the ground, right on the soft, green grass of his front yard. I shrieked and screamed, trying in vain to wrestle my way out of his playful grasp, but my wimpy upper body was no match for his impossible strength. He tickled me, and being the most ticklish human in the Northern Hemisphere, I screamed bloody murder. Afraid I'd wet my pants (it was a valid concern), I fought back the only way I knew how--by grabbing and untucking his shirt from his Wranglers…and running my hand up his back, poking at his rib cage.
The tickling suddenly stopped. Marlboro Man propped himself on his elbows, holding my face in his hands. He kissed me passionately and seriously, and what started a ~ Ree Drummond

Turn to my left and see a young couple walking along the sidewalk. Seattle's Alki Beach is pretty much deserted, aside from a few die-hards, or early morning insomniacs, like me. The young couple are walking away from me, hand in hand, smiling at each other, and I point my lens at them and click. I zoom in on their sneaker-clad feet and locked hands and shoot some more, my photographer's eye appreciating their intimate moment on the beach. I inhale the salty air and stare out at the sound once again as a red-sailed boat gently glides out on the water. The early morning sunshine is ~ Kristen Proby

For me, hands are hard." She looks up from what she's doing. "Because you're holding this disconnected hand, and it's holding you back." Cadavers occasionally effect a sort of accidental humanness that catches the medical professional off guard. I once spoke to an anatomy student who described a moment in the lab when she realized that the cadaver's arm was around her waist. It becomes difficult, under circumstances such as these, to retain one's clinical remove. ~ Mary Roach

Hey, give me my gun, would you?" Zane asked as he shifted, only to wince as the skin pulled.
"Why, you planning on shooting me in the ass when I turn around?" Ty asked sarcastically as he reached for the holster.
"Tempting, but you'd probably get off on it," Zane said, holding out his hand. ~ Abigail Roux

Sitting beside me, holding my hand under the table. ~ Shaun David Hutchinson

There's something I have to say," I said seriously, looking her in the eye.
She smiled. "Oookay." She was mocking me-mocking my tone-but I didn't care.
"Okay. Here it is. I love you," I said. "And I never, ever wanted to hurt you. It's like, the number one thing I never want to do, but somehow, I keep doing it. And I'm sorry, I just ... that's all I wanted to say all this time. All I was trying to do ... with that thing with your dad, not telling you ... was not to hurt you. And I'm sorry that I did.
Alley stared at me.
"And I'm sorry that I did it again. With the Chloe thing. Which was stupid. Like, really, really, stupid. And I-"
"Can you just stop, for a second?" Ally said, holding up a hand.
"What?" I said.
"Can you say the first part again?" she asked, rolling her fingers around for a rewind.
I racked my brain.
"Um ... I love you?" I said.
"That's the part, Cuz I love you, too. ~ Kieran Scott

Kiss me already, god. I can't take the hungry looks any longer." She told him with boldness. Her breath fanning his face and her eyes … fuck, her eyes could seduce any man and they trained on him.

Then he kissed her.

A growl gurgling at the back of his throat, he took her lips like he'd been starving for his whole life waiting for a kiss like this one.

Her mouth offered him everything Butcher didn't know he'd needed and now was dying for.

She was a breath. A yearning.
Her mouth parted so inviting and he dove in with his tongue.

When her taste filled his mouth, the ticking bomb inside his head intensified. It only grew louder as her fingers speared into his hair and kissed him back like she was meant to kiss only him.

Like she needed his flavor drenching her mouth in the same way.
She moaned.
Butcher grunted his arousal, holding the back of her head to keep her right there. And when her mouth opened again, he pushed in to chase her tongue.

His free hand sloped down the curve of her back until he had a grip of her ass, helping her to move on him. Fuck, she was like a serpent curling her hips, driving him crazy and then crazier still, he lifted his pelvis from the chair in hopes of getting closer to that heaven but that would only happen if she let Butcher take her somewhere private.
One more taste.
Another bite and suck.
One more bruising kiss.
Not a kiss. It was a po ~ V. Theia

Like is an emotion. Emotions" - he raised a hand, made a fist, clenched it tightly - "are like holding water. You open your hand, there's nothing there. Better to be a weapon than a woman. ~ Karen Marie Moning

Tori swiveled in her seat as we came in.
"There are more," she said. "He sent one every couple of weeks. The last one was only a few days ago."
"Good," I said. "Would you mind keeping and eye on Andrew?"
"Sure." She took off.
"Wait." I grabbed Derek's sleeve as he headed for the chair Tori had vacated. I wanted to say something. I didn't know what. But there was no way to tell him that wouldn't be much of a shock, so I ended up stupidly murmuring, "Never mind."
When he read what was on the screen, he went absolutely still, like he wasn't even breathing. After a few seconds, he yanked the laptop closer, leaning in to read it again. And again. Finally, he pushed back the chair and exhaled.
"He's alive," I said. "You're dad's alive."
He looked up at me and, I couldn't help it- I threw my arms around his neck and hugged him. Then I realized what I was doing. I let go, backing away, tripping over my feet, stammering, "I-I'm sorry. I'm just- I'm happy for you."
"I know."
Still sitting, he reached out and pulled me toward him. We stayed there, looking at each other, his hand still wrapped in my shirt hem, my heart hammering so hard I was sure he could hear it.
"There's more," I said after a few seconds. "More emails, Tori said."
He nodded and swiveled back to the computer, making room for me. When I inched closer, not wanting to intrude, he tugged me in front of him and I stumbled, half falling onto his lap. I tried to scramble ~ Kelley Armstrong

Because this time he's holding my hand and not letting go. And I'm not letting go either. ~ Lisa Greenwald

I walked away from Lexi, leaving her standing behind the gate. Ren was smart to put the barrier between us. I fought everything in me not to run back to the house and steal her away. Instead, I walked around the corner and punched the wall, brilliant. My hand throbbed along with my heartbeat and the only thing I could do was stuff it in a pile of snow. A couple huddled together and pretended I wasn't there as they passed by - smart people. ~ S.G. Holster

Out, Out

The buzz saw snarled and rattled in the yard
And made dust and dropped stove-length sticks of wood,
Sweet-scented stuff when the breeze drew across it.
And from there those that lifted eyes could count
Five mountain ranges one behind the other
Under the sunset far into Vermont.
And the saw snarled and rattled, snarled and rattled,
As it ran light, or had to bear a load.
And nothing happened: day was all but done.
Call it a day, I wish they might have said
To please the boy by giving him the half hour
That a boy counts so much when saved from work.
His sister stood beside him in her apron
To tell them 'Supper.' At the word, the saw,
As if to prove saws know what supper meant,
Leaped out at the boy's hand, or seemed to leap -
He must have given the hand. However it was,
Neither refused the meeting. But the hand!
The boy's first outcry was a rueful laugh,
As he swung toward them holding up the hand
Half in appeal, but half as if to keep
The life from spilling. Then the boy saw all -
Since he was old enough to know, big boy
Doing a man's work, though a child at heart -
He saw all was spoiled. 'Don't let him cut my hand off -
The doctor, when he comes. Don't let him, sister!'
So. But the hand was gone already.
The doctor put him in the dark of ether.
He lay and puffed his lips out with his breath.
And then - the wa ~ Robert Frost